Whisper to the Wind
by Nestrik
Summary: Takes place betweeen Dune and Dune Messiah. What if Irulan never gave Chani the contraceptive?
1. Intro

"It's ironic." Paul Muad'dib leaned against the windowsill, knowing what he would say next and how deeply it would hurt the white-clad woman standing next to him. "But your clumsy, selfish attempts to mother an imperial heir actually prolonged Chani's life. And for that I am grateful."  
  
Irulan held onto the sill. Her knuckles turned white. She felt that something was going to happen, something dynamic. She watched Paul's lips move. She watched as he stepped towards her, leaned towards her. She was detached.  
  
Irulan Corrino came back to reality to moment that Paul's lips touched her own. It was a soft, gentle, apologetic kiss. She compared it to Feyd. Suddenly the floor moved out from under Irulan's feet. It was Paul, it was, and Chani was all right, and she was here. with Paul. She reached out and grabbed the folded cloth of his shirt, her love's shirt, right here in her arms.  
  
Paul gently laid his hands on her shoulders and pushed her away, already walking away, to Seitch Tabr, to his unborn child, to his Fremen, to Chani, to her unsuccessful plot. The moment his boot made the first step he stopped being Paul and began being Muad'dib again.  
  
Irulan gasped, trying to get a hold of her breath. Her vision swam with unshed tears, which she tried to hold back. Even a tear on Dune is cherished, she reminded herself, and used her Bene Gesserit abilities to calm herself. Prana-bindu was never something she had excelled in before she had left the Sisterhood, but she had learned enough after leaving the service of Mohiam that Irulan was able to gain control. In that moment, Irulan remembered Jessica, who had also left the Sisterhood for love. For her Duke Leto, Paul's father.  
  
The world was crashing around Princess Irulan Corrino, daughter of Shaddam IV and of Anirul, the Bene Gesserit sister who had been "assigned" to the young Emperor. The universe was swept away, a dusting of stars in the swipe of a hand.  
  
Irulan lost her balance. Spasms racked her body, and her ability to draw breath was impaired. The iron fist was squeezing.  
  
"But your clumsy, selfish attempts to mother an Imperial heir actually prolonged Chani's life."  
  
The words of Paul floated back to her, and Irulan remembered: her mother fussing over her, her father looking at her in disgust for not being a male, Feyd-Rautha's greedy hands, her first appearance on Arrakis, the slaughter of millions in Muad'dib's crusades, the slaughter of Feyd, laying motionless on the floor of the Keep in Arakeen, her own meaningless marriage, twelve years of being underneath a concubine in Muad'dib's affections and Paul's lips against her own.  
  
As Irulan fell, a single word resounded throughout her head.  
  
Muad'dib. 


	2. One

Whisper to the Wind Chapter One- 12 Years Earlier  
  
The famed windstorms of Dune tainted the air to the forbidden south. As she watched it approaching, Irulan remembered the four people who had actually survived one of the Dune storms: Liet-Kynes, Chani's father, his sietch brother Warrick, whose flesh was stripped off his bones and whom died a few days later, leaving Liet to marry and take care of Warrick's wife and Chani's mother Faroula, Jessica and Paul himself, who had flown an ornithopter into the storm just to escape the Harkonnens.  
  
Sietch Tabr was a somber place. The fallen Fedaykin were being mourned. Even in the city the people wore green, the mourning color of Arrakis. Chani and Muad'dib, however, still had more than the traditional three months of mourning in front of them. Besides grieving over the lost Fedaykin, Leto, their two-year-old son, had also been lost.  
  
Irulan narrowed her eyes against the wind, which was now peppered with grains of sand. Shaddam had been ousted. There was no denying it. But even though Irulan was still being treated like an Imperial princess, there was no room for her as an Empress, or even a lover, in Muad'dib's heart.  
  
The first time Irulan had seen Chani was a month before, when Paul truly proved himself to be the Emperor of the known universe. The concubine had stood behind his throne, wearing a white garment and headdress. She had looked uncomfortable in her fine clothing, whereas Irulan was fine in her dress and hat. Irulan had known, from when Paul had handed his necklace to her before killing Feyd, that Chani had Paul's heart in the palm of her hand.  
  
When Muad'dib's entourage had reached the sietch where no Imperial spies could be housed- Stilgar would not allow it- Chani immediately appeared at Muad'dib's side wearing the customary tunic and leggings of the Fremen. The woman had looked a lot more relaxed.  
  
It had taken Irulan days to grow comfortable to the roughness of the cloth against her soft skin, to the smell of unwashed bodies, for no water could be spared on Dune, to the unseemliness of her own usually clean self. Irulan began to recognize that she was withdrawing from this strange environment, while the royal concubine seemed more alive than she ever had before.  
  
From the window in her private room of the sietch, Irulan gazed across the endless sands. As she watched, another cloud approached from the east. It was wormsign- that much Irulan had picked up from the Fremen, who usually dismissed her queries. According to Paul, who rarely spoke to her at all, the Fremen had a strict code of honor. They still viewed her to be water fat, an outsider who was not fit to step foot onto the Fremen sands.  
  
Irulan's sharp-eyed gaze detected a figure on the moving worm. It was Stilgar, coming back from another sietch to share news with Muad'dib. Probably of more recruits for the Jihad, Irulan thought, her brow furrowed. Through her eavesdropping and her appointed job as Muad'dib's scribe, she had learned that Paul was planning to hunt down and execute all of Shaddam's dreaded Sardaukar. She had argued with him- "They're defenseless without their Emperor!" - but to no avail. "Since when are the Imperial soldiers helpless?" he had scoffed.  
  
Five Fremen boys were sitting on the sands just outside the rocky wall of the sietch, eating spice cakes and laughing at a joke. Some women aired out three of the many hangings that decorated Sietch Tabr, while a young man practiced use of the crysknife with his friend. They used sticks instead of the holy knives, rather than have to bleed before they sheathed them.  
  
Paul came out to greet Stilgar as the large man dismounted his worm and sent the exhausted beast back into the desert. As Stilgar spoke, the look on Paul's face became elated.  
  
More troops for sure, Irulan thought.  
  
The sand continued to pelt her bare arms. She drew her wrap closer around her.  
  
Why aren't they going inside? Irulan thought to herself, gazing upon the women, the children and the young men. Paul and Stilgar, too, were ignoring the storm as if it were merely a fly buzzing around the rocks on a summer day.  
  
A knock sounded on the rocks outside the wall hanging that served as a door. Irulan jumped, startled out of her thoughts, and pulled away the wall hanging.  
  
In the light streaming in from the window and the glowglobes dimmed to a golden hue, Irulan recognized Otheym, one of Paul's trusted advisors. He held a basket in his hands.  
  
"Muad'dib has allowed me to bring this to you," Otheym announced. He held the basket out to her.  
  
"Allowed you?" Irulan asked, curious.  
  
"After we searched it for weapons, noble born," Otheym said without hesitation.  
  
"I see," Irulan said, dimming the small spark of anger that had flared up. "Thank you, Otheym."  
  
She took the basket from him and laid it on her bed, not noticing the soft swish the hanging made as it closed behind her. Her gaze swept over the wicker basket with Bene Gesserit-trained skill, looking for any hint of something odd.  
  
But then again, Otheym has already taken care of that for me, since no one trusts the water fat off worlder.  
  
Irulan removed the cloth that covered the basket. Inside laid a large vial of clear liquid.  
  
Weapons, no, but Otheym, you've let poison slip in right under your nose. For in the code only the Bene Gesserit knew and used, Mother Mohiam had sent Irulan a contraceptive. Use this on the concubine, the Reverend Mother had written. We cannot risk a Fremen strain in the breeding program.  
  
Irulan's brown furrowed. Hurt Chani? The Sisterhood had not destroyed her morals and Irulan felt a load of resistance fall on her shoulders.  
  
In one swift move, before she could stop herself, Irulan looked outside at the coming storm and checked the ground beneath her. The Fremen were gone, and with a flick of her wrist, Irulan sent the bottle of contraceptive spinning out into the storm. The wind would devour it and smash it to pieces on the cliff.  
  
+++++  
  
The dunes were smoothed and fresh, mixing the smell of the hot sands with the cinnamon odor of spice. Chani knew the corridors of Sietch Tabr like the back of her hand, and therefore knew exactly where to go to find peace away from the bustle that now filled the sietch.  
  
The eastern reservoir of the sietch's water supply was the place where Chani had come to meditate since her mother had died. The water was smoother than the glass of Arakeen's windows, and even the great storms of Dune could not shake the calmness from the place.  
  
Chani stepped down the stairs and through the door, but stopped short at the entrance, for a white clad figure stood on the basin's edge, watching the water. She recognized the blonde hair immediately and pondered what she would say to Irulan.  
  
Irulan's Bene Gesserit trained ears picked up the slightest scuffle on the stairs behind her. She whirled around and adjusted her muscles slightly to one of the fighting stances that Mother Mohiam had taught her. When she saw that it was Chani standing in the doorway, she did not relax her position.  
  
Chani's hand clasped the hilt of her crysknife and slightly loosened the blade in its sheath so it would slide out easier. Her words, however, were civil.  
  
"How did you find your way down here?" Chani said.  
  
"I memorized a map of this place when I first came here," Irulan answered stiffly.  
  
Chani's hand tightened on her crysknife, but she slid the blade back into its sheath. "Let this be a meeting among friends," she said, and slowly approached the reservoir and spat in it. Irulan recognized the gesture and relaxed.  
  
Chani gazed out over the water. Irulan followed her gaze but saw nothing there. "This place must be. amazing. to the Fremen," Irulan faltered.  
  
Chani nodded slightly. "It is Shai-Hulud's gift to us that we are so fortunate here in this sietch," she agreed. "When my grandfather first came here, the Fremen had already begun to replant Dune, but still the water supply was poor." Chani swept her arm over the subterranean lake. "Through the work of my father, he has given this place life."  
  
"On Kaitan, there are many such lakes as this."  
  
"Dune is not Kaitan."  
  
"So I've noticed."  
  
+++++  
  
Paul reached into the place where no Bene Gesserit sister could go. The place that only the Kwisatz Haderach could enter- the prescient future.  
  
He saw Irulan and an adult version of Alia sitting by his side. He saw a girl child playing in the sietch. He saw Jessica, returning to Dune and stroking the now teenage girl's face. He saw Chani.  
  
Dying.  
  
Paul gripped his knees and focused on the image of his concubine. She looked strong and healthy, but her eyes. the light was leaving them and she was slumping to the floor. The vision blinked once, and then closed her eyes.  
  
Paul's eyes moved around behind their lids. He searched the many strings of time, searching for an alternate route.  
  
There was none. Whatever had placed this event in motion had already occurred.  
  
And I was too late to stop it.  
  
The Fremen instinct stopped the tears from flooding his eyes, but as Paul opened them, he heard shattered glass and saw a clear liquid flowing onto the sands, eaten up by one of Dune's storms.  
  
"Muad'dib?"  
  
The voice cut through Paul's senses, and he turned to face the door, remembering Thufir Hawat's lesson on never turning your back towards the entranceway.  
  
Chani stood there, her elfin face filled with shadows from the nearby glowglobes. The sight of her comforted him, even though he knew that soon his desert spring would dry up and never brighten the sands of Arrakis again. His Sihaya.  
  
"Muad'dib," she said again, "are you alright?"  
  
Paul forced himself to nod.  
  
Chani stepped forwards and knelt besides Paul on the mat, woven with spice-threads. "Muad'dib."  
  
"What is it, Sihaya?"  
  
"I." Paul watched emotions spread across Chani's face- fear, anxiety, and unbounded love. "I am pregnant."  
  
Defying all principles, Chani burst into tears. 


	3. Two

Whisper to the Wind Chapter Two- Twelve Years Earlier  
  
As Chani wept into his arms, Paul separated the future from the present with a shake of his head. She will not die, he promised himself. His mouth settled into a firm line as he gently rose and brought over a sponge for Chani, who looked up in gratitude before covering her wet eyes with the thing. Paul sat back down and discerned words from the sobs erupting from Chani.  
  
"Muad'dib, I know you were frightened for me. but I'll make it. I'm strong and. Leto, our baby Leto. he roams with Shai-Hulud now and I believe that I can do this. that we can survive."  
  
"Chani, Chani," Paul said as he stroked her hair, smooth but slightly tangled from the desert winds. "We will survive."  
  
He pressed her closer to his chest and murmured into her ear the ancient words of the Bene Gesserit that had lingered in his memory since his early childhood, when Jessica had taught her the weirding ways.  
  
"I will not fear. Fear is the mind killer. Fear is the little death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will let it pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain."  
  
+++++  
  
The streets of Arrakeen were filled with the haunting cries of the water sellers, the shouts of the venders, and the yelling of the assorted people that clogged the streets. The few nobles that tolerated the Dune suns peered out of the train windows at the peasants with wrinkled noses, as if the stench of sand and unwashed bodies could permeate their thick windows.  
  
There was a quarter of Arrakeen set aside for the people called "city- Fremen," the natives of Arrakis that chose to work and live in the city as servants instead of living in the sietches. It was here that Shadout Mapes had made her home, and it was here that her daughter and son, Asiri and Zerati, lived.  
  
Already the morning sun boiled the sandy streets. The twins had risen before daybreak and had set out into the depths of their quarter. They had slipped into the market, every feature but their eyes obscured by their jubba cloaks. A wizened old man sat beneath a tent, plucking the strings of the baliset with his knobby ancient fingers. Three Fremen wearing stillsuits walked through the streets, their mouths covered with the flap that collected the moisture they exhaled. A woman with a basket on her head carefully balanced a brown skinned child on her hip as she walked towards her home.  
  
The sixteen-year-old twins slipped through the throng of people as they had been taught to do by Mapes. Though the woman had been fortunate to find quarters in the city and a job in the service of noblemen, the woman had always remained faithful to her Fremen roots. Her children had been reared in this manner as well.  
  
The cloaks covered their stillsuits. Zerati took a dry sip out of the cache as the twins entered a side street and ran down the alleyway and into a wide, paved street.  
  
The Keep towered above them, the palace where Muad'dib had already formed his legend. Asiri and Zerati ran up the stairs, permitted the guards to search them for weapons, and entered the building. Asiri sniffed the air. It was dry, not like what she had smelled when she had entered this building once before, when the Lord and Lady Fenring lived in this place. Then it had been rich with moisture from Lady Margot's garden.  
  
Asiri and Zerati exchanged approving glances. The off-worlder knows our ways, Zerati thought as they followed a woman through a stone and marble hallway. The walls were adorned with scrolls and banners bearing the Atreides hawk.  
  
As the three ascended the stairs, a slight hint of moisture caught Zerati's attention. He looked around and saw well concealed water traps growing more and more numerous as they approached their destination.  
  
The servant girl stopped in front of a doorway. "Slip in quickly," she intoned quietly. "The Sayadinna is waiting."  
  
The girl opened the door, and Zerati entered first, followed by Asiri. The door shut quickly behind them. Zerati flung back his hood.  
  
"I promised your mother I would keep this place for the joy of the people of Dune," a disembodied voice spoke. Asiri whirled around, on her guard. Both twins hands fell to the hilts of their crysknives. Zerati loosened his knife in its sheath.  
  
"Who speaks?" he said, not allowing the fear to seep into his voice. His blue-on-blue eyes narrowed as he gazed through the leaves of the trees and the thick foliage.  
  
"The Sayadinna," a woman said. She stepped out from behind a tree, right in front of the twins. Zerati quickly drew his crysknife as he exchanged quizzical glances with Asiri.  
  
The woman raised her hand. "Do not fear," she said as she released the hood of her abba robe, releasing a sheet of bronze hair. "I am the Reverend Mother Jessica," she said. Asiri nodded- she recognized the name. "Mother of Muad'dib," she murmured, and bowed her head. Zerati quickly slashed the inside fold of his hand, drawing a thin line of blood before he placed the sacred knife back in its sheath.  
  
"I promised your mother I would take care of this place before she died," Jessica said. "Why is it you have come here?"  
  
"We wish to join the soldiers of Muad'dib," Zerati spoke. His chin, covered in stubble, sounded as if he was scraping out the rough words.  
  
"I wish to learn the weirding ways, Reverend Mother," Asiri said in her lilting tone.  
  
Jessica nodded and seemed to think for a while. Asiri noticed a slight change in her muscle structure. Zerati looked around at the plants in wonderment.  
  
Jessica suspended her mind inwards, using the few Truthsayer abilities she had picked up from Mohiam. She reviewed their words, their every action. Her body relaxed into one of the many Bene Gesserit fighting stances, just subtly so that she would be prepared if one of the two Fremen tried to attack her while she was meditating. Jessica saw no falsehoods in their words. But are they human, Jessica wondered. Even computers could be made to lie.  
  
Jessica had never become a Reverend Mother after she had failed to produce an Atreides daughter for the Sisterhood, but she had undergone the test of humanity and she had witnessed others failing it, falling to the floor and twitching slightly as the poison of the gom jabbar sped through their veins. Improvising quickly, she spun behind Zerati and lifted a needle dagger to the girl's throat. Behind her, she heard Asiri drawing her crysknife.  
  
"Put the weapon away," Jessica said, using her full power of the Voice. She heard a swift parting of flesh, and the blade was sheathed.  
  
Zerati's body remained rigidly still. Jessica spoke to him in a commanding tone. "How did your mother die?"  
  
"Stabbed, milady. You know that."  
  
"Who killed her?"  
  
"A Suk doctor."  
  
"His name?"  
  
"Yueh, I was told."  
  
"Who told you?"  
  
Zerati swallowed slightly, feeling the metal press slightly into the skin of his throat. "A servant who had befriended my mother."  
  
"His name?"  
  
"It was a female, Reverend Mother. Her name was Alaya."  
  
Jessica relaxed the needle dagger, and spun the boy around so she faced the blue-on-blue eyes. She searched deep within them for the falseness of the Theilaxu metal. "You are no ghola or face dancer," Jessica finally said. She relaxed slightly.  
  
Before Asiri could move, she too felt the metal prick the skin of her neck. "Your brother has passed the test. Now I must see if you, too, are human.  
  
"Many spies have tried to invade the compound at Seitch Tabr," Jessica said to the twins. "I have been able to tell many apart just from their furtive movements. But they have been getting smarter. I cannot take a chance on my people."  
  
"We are your people," Asiri said.  
  
"Who was your father?"  
  
"We never knew him," Asiri said through gritted teeth.  
  
"You lie."  
  
"He left us!"  
  
"You lie. Tell me." Jessica spun Asiri around to face her. A metallic gleam caught her eye.  
  
Jessica kneed the girl in the stomach and then flipped her over. Asiri's body thudded against the ground, but the girl rolled back up. Responding in a whirl of kicks and jabs, Asiri feinted with a well-placed kick to Jessica's groin. The woman did not falter. She rolled behind the girl, and quickly dispatched a hand to the back of the girl's neck.  
  
Asiri slumped over, face down on the floor. Zerati moved towards his sister. "Wait," Jessica said. Zerati stopped. Minutes later, Asiri's skin began to melt away, revealing a white, waxy surface.  
  
Zerati bowed his head and prayed to Shai-Hulud. Jessica left him for a moment before touching his shoulder. "This was not your sister, Zerati," she said. "This was a Face Dancer. She may not be dead. Did you tell anyone of your plan to come here?"  
  
Zerati looked her in the eye. "No, Reverend Mother. We told no one."  
  
Jessica sighed and tiredly rested her face in her hands. "Then we have Theilaxu in our midst."  
  
The light filtered in dimly from the small window. She peeled her eyes open and smiled slowly up to the two suns. Muad'dib breathed slowly besides her. Chani smiled again. The baby in her womb was at peace. She rested her hand on top of her stomach.  
  
"Sleeping, little one?" she murmured quietly.  
  
Chani felt Muad'dib's arm encircle her waist, and his other hand slid on top of hers. "He will be strong," his voice said from beside her. She turned to face him. "He will be. Like his father," she said softly.  
  
Muad'dib smiled up at her. Chani realized with a start that he had not smiled that often since he had become the Emperor. "What have I done to deserve such a reward?" she teased, tracing the shape of his grin. Muad'dib closed his eyes and rested his head against her abdomen.  
  
Chani sighed, content. "I am so glad to be back in the desert," she said, partly to herself. "Muad'dib, where will I deliver our child?" She had already made up her mind that she would deliver here in the sietch, but she wanted Muad'dib to know of her decision.  
  
"In the sietch," he said, his voice slightly muffled.  
  
Chani smiled contentedly and leaned back again.  
  
"I would give anything to live my life out in peace such as this," Muad'dib said.  
  
Chani frowned and turned to face him. "Beloved," she said softly. "You do what you must, and then you pass on your duty to our son when you have done all that you were meant to do." She slightly smiled. "And I will be there."  
  
Muad'dib buried his head deeper into Chani's lap so that she would not see the spasm of pain that had suddenly crossed his face. 


	4. Three

A/N: I'm not sure if I mentioned this before, but I do use lines from the movies and books in here. They do not belong to me, but I'm not marking every single line to tell whether it's John Harrison's, Frank Herbert's or mine, okay?  
  
Whisper to the Wind Chapter Three- 12 Years Earlier  
  
Asiri awoke in a Heighliner. She squinted and rubbed her eyes before gazing out the window into deep space. A golden planet hung suspended by gravity before her. Asiri did not remember her capture.  
  
"Hello, little one."  
  
Asiri spun around. She had heard no one enter, but had no time to puzzle over this fact as she studied the heart faced man in front of her. He was short, dwarf-like, and had brown hair, long and covering his forehead. His eyes were black. As Asiri looked closer, she saw that they had a metallic sheen- artificial Theilaxu eyes.  
  
"Where are we?" Asiri asked, not letting the fear enter her voice. She moved her hand slowly and deliberately to her waist.  
  
"Orbiting Arrakis."  
  
"Why am I here?"  
  
The squat man grinned. "That I cannot tell you, Asiri. You are the Shadout Mapes' daughter, are you not?"  
  
Asiri continued to glare at the man as she continued moving her hand towards her belt. She felt the sheath of her crysknife digging into her thigh.  
  
"We have removed your blade. Answer my question." A cold gleam entered the man's eyes as Asiri's hand stopped abruptly.  
  
"Yes," Asiri said. "Who are you?"  
  
"The Theilaxu are their own people, little one. However, we can be enlisted as mercenaries. Did you know that?"  
  
As Asiri opened her mouth to speak, the man darted forwards, faster than any movement Asiri had witnessed before. Before she could move, she felt the tough area above her collarbone open. Warm moisture splattered down the front of her stillsuit. Her eyes gazed around frantically, thinking of the wasted water.  
  
A pair of black eyes gloated in the air above her. "Scytale was your killer, little one, and no one can stop him now."  
  
Arrakis glowed dully from deep space, a rusty jewel that housed the treasure of the universe. How many times people had tried to stop the monopoly on spice, Reverend Mother Gaius Helen Mohiam thought. Repeated assassination attempts, people trying to breed their own Navigators. but none of it worked. Spice was not the only secret in the universe.  
  
Irulan fidgeted slightly in her chair. This was the only chance she had of seeing the Reverend Mother alone about the scheme. She did not trust either Scytale or Edric. They were outsiders.  
  
"The contraceptive?" said Mohiam suddenly. Irulan tensed as her mind raced for a lie to tell the Reverend Mother.  
  
"The concubine discovered the bottle and enlisted the aide of her doctors. They do not know that I was the one administering it." Irulan smoothed her voice with a tinge of fear, as if she was afraid of disappointing the Reverend Mother. Inside, the princess was laughing bitterly. She did not care anymore. All she cared about was Paul.  
  
"You lie." The belief behind Mohiam's words shocked Irulan. Too late she had remembered Mohiam's Truthsayer abilities. "What happened to the contraceptive?"  
  
"Smashed in a storm," Irulan managed to croak. That, at least, was true.  
  
"You do not tell the whole truth," Gaius Helen Mohiam accused.  
  
Irulan took a deep breath.  
  
I will not fear.  
  
"What happened, Irulan?" Mohiam demanded.  
  
Fear is the mind killer.  
  
"Do not lie to a Truthsayer, girl."  
  
Fear is the little death that brings total obliteration.  
  
"It is folly for you to do so."  
  
I will face my fear.  
  
"Who do you think you are, to ignore me thus?"  
  
I will let it pass over me and through me.  
  
"Irulan Corrino, are you listening to a word that I am saying?"  
  
And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.  
  
"Your mother raised you. Anirul was a Bene Gesserit of Hidden Rank."  
  
Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.  
  
"Do you know how important she was? Hidden Rank, girl." Mohiam sneered. "What a useless piece you are. I would have thought that Anirul would have done better. Incomplete, girl! Or are your emotions clouding your intelligence? That bitch of a Fremen, is that it? She triumphs over you? 'We who carry the name of concubine," Mohiam suddenly lashed out, "history will call us wives.' "  
  
"Only I will remain!"  
  
Irulan placed a hand over her mouth in surprise that she had cried the last part of the Litany Against Fear aloud in the presence of her Bene Gesserit teacher and Shaddam's Truthsayer. Mohiam's eyes glowed strangely bright in the darkness of the room. Mohiam's private shuttle suddenly seemed small and cramped. Irulan shrank back into her seat, ignoring all Bene Gesserit lessons about outward appearances. Gaius Helen Mohiam leaned forwards in her chair, her talon-like fingers gripping the ends of the chair's arms. "You realize your place so late, Irulan Corrino," she whispered, using the name of Corrino as an insult. "You are just the machinery, girl, though your brain does provide some work of the minor details of the plot. You realize now what we are really doing." Mohiam eased herself out of the chair. "Edric and Scytale are not here, girl, to help me explain it to you, but I think I can do a sufficient enough job. We are here, placed here in this moment, right now, to do one thing. You have never undergone the test, the Water of Life, as they call it on Arrakis. You have never seen a moment suspended in time. You have never seen a dust mote suspended above someone's head for a single eternity contained in a second. These moments, these little eternities, have placed us here in the universe for a single purpose. We are going to kill the Kwisatz Haderach."  
  
Irulan stifled a cry. It was just Chani, she thought to herself, frantically trying to refuse what Revered Mother Gaius Helen Mohiam was telling her. It was just Chani. Only Chani would be hurt.  
  
But Irulan did not want to hurt Chani. She had discovered that the day that she had thrown the liquid contraceptive out of the window and into one of the storms of Dune.  
  
"You love him, you poor, pathetic girl. You love him. Emotions!" Mohiam spat the word out, and a fractured memory of a Fremen spitting into a reservoir as a sign of respect flitted across Irulan's memory. Chani. "But the thing must be done. It is already set in motion. You know that the Theilaxu are preparing. The Face Dancer Scytale is absorbing information down there, down on Arrakis. He has marked those he will have to kill and those he will have to speak too." Suddenly spent, Mohiam sat down and sighed. She held both of her bony hands in front of her face, in front of Irulan's face.  
  
"There will be no blood on my hands, girl," Mohiam said softly. "But it is we who will pay. We will find a way to kill those who need to be slaughtered. Listen now, child. Chani will have to die, as well as Paul Atreides. The catalyst, the ghola of Duncan Idaho, is not ready. Foolish girl! You have no idea how long it takes to grow a ghola and repair the damages done to the flesh in its former life. Eleven, twelve years, child!" Mohiam lowered her hands and peered into Irulan's eyes, which were just turning faintly blue from the spice. "Your hands, child. The blood will be on your hands. Chani, Paul, and the child. Foolish girl."  
  
+++++  
  
The Suk doctor leaned back, put his instruments aside, and motioned for Chani to relax. "The fetus is healthy, m'lady."  
  
Chani settled back on her cushions. The pale white sunlight of Dune that she had known all of her life filtered through the glass windows and into the golden curtains. Rays of light fell across her bed. Muad'dib had ordered a doctor to stay in the palace. Chani received weekly checkups.  
  
Doctor Gwalith nodded. "For five weeks, it is slightly overlarge, but it is not an emergency." The doctor smiled. "You have twins, m'lady."  
  
Chani sat upright. "Twins?"  
  
"At the top and bottom of the fetus there are slight partings. Indeed, you will bear Muad'dib's twin children in good time." The doctor closed his bag, touched his forehead in a sign of respect, and left the room.  
  
Once more, Chani leaned back onto her cushions. She watched sunlight reflect off of the glass of water that had been placed on her bed table besides a plate of spice cakes. "Twins," she murmured to herself. "Usul's twins."  
  
She suddenly broke out into a huge smile. "Usul," she said softly to herself as she closed her eyes.  
  
"Sihaya?"  
  
Chani's eyes opened suddenly. There he was, still in his robe and turban. The morning benedictions had finished.  
  
"Usul," Chani breathed softly, so that even he could not hear her. She placed a hand on her abdomen.  
  
"What is it, Chani?" Paul said as he unwrapped his turban from around his head and removed his ceremonial robe to reveal a stillsuit.  
  
Chani smiled softly and allowed the breeze from the open windows to cool her hot forehead as Usul lay down beside her and placed his hand on her abdomen. "Twins," she said softly, and put her hand next to his.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Twins, Usul. Twins. Our babies." Chani smiled, and Paul swore that he could see just the hint of tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. Of course, they did not fall.  
  
"Twins," he whispered to himself, and then turned to Chani and lightly kissed her. "Twins." 


	5. Four

Whisper to the Wind Chapter Four- 12 Years Earlier  
  
Chani is pregnant.  
  
Irulan's fist closed inwards unto itself, the nails biting into the skin.  
  
Chani is pregnant.  
  
The bottle of contraceptive shattered on the rocks, spreading its poisoned water over the sands over and over again in her mind.  
  
Chani is pregnant.  
  
But I am the Princess-Consort! Irulan's mind shrieked. How can this happen to one such as myself?  
  
Chani is pregnant, and I did nothing to stop it.  
  
Irulan closed her eyes, but when she opened them again she did not see the barren rock walls of Seitch Tabr. A boiling nexus streamed before her eyes, red in its mist.  
  
The catalyst, the ghola of Duncan Idaho that was meant to kill Paul Atreides, was not ready. Irulan had destroyed the contraceptive, and in doing so had destroyed the smooth exterior of the plot. Chani, the child and Paul would have to be killed, and she would have to do so. The Face Dancer. Scytale had not yet come to sway with the Fremen. Just another part of the plot that had been ruined by a single thrust of an arm.  
  
Chani is pregnant.  
  
+++++  
  
It was easy for a master Face Dancer such as Scytale to take on the voice, persona and appearance of a young Fremen girl. He knew that she would be only the first of a long chain of those close to Muad'dib to die, to be impersonated by him.  
  
It was almost horrifyingly easy to enter the domain of the Fremen from space. The city people usually avoided fey Fremen, and most had doubts about city Fremen as well. Scytale observed Arrakeen, the Holy City that was the destination of all of the disciples and pilgrims of the great Mahdi, Muad'dib, through blue-in-blue eyes. The dead girl's eyes were lighter than most, for she had access to some off-world food as a Fremen of the city. She had not the totally blue eyes of Ibad, but they were blue and wild enough to give Scytale wide berth in his present form.  
  
Scytale journeyed forth, through the throngs of people that swarmed the streets, buying souvenirs of their pilgrimage to Arrakis, buying spice- ridden food that caused their noses to wrinkle with the strong cinnamon smell, or simply gazing up at the Keep, where Muad'dib was to appear within the hour for the morning benediction, surrounded by his yellow robed Qizara.  
  
In the form of Asiri Scytale quickly found the man that he sought. A tall, gangly, corded youth, strict in the ways of the desert but showing just a slight touch of the miracle of Arrakis: the water-fatness that was even beginning to touch the Fremen. His black hair flopped forwards into his eyes, his blue-in-blue eyes. A stillsuit flap hung open at his neck, allowing the youth to speak the benediction along with Muad'dib.  
  
Scytale knew that if he inhabited the form of another woman, any woman besides this one that he possessed now, he would be drawn to the young man. It was a simple assessment, a fact; not a desire.  
  
He stepped forwards and saw that the boy's eyes were sad beneath their blue mask and that his face radiated his total belief in the Mahdi.  
  
Judging the time to be correct, Scytale stepped forwards and touched the youth gently on the shoulder.  
  
Zerati whipped around, his hand going to his crysknife, but when he saw the face that had so often plagued his thoughts his hand forgot the smooth feel of a knife and instead found the familiar form of his sister's shoulders.  
  
"Asiri!" he said, his voice thick with unshed tears- he was still a Fremen, missing sister or not.  
  
"Zerati!" Scytale said. The voice of the girl was lilting and musical. He found himself enjoying the sound of it.  
  
"What happened to you?" Zerati said, slightly lessening the pressure he was putting on Scytale's shoulders.  
"I was captured." Scytale said, lacing his voice with pain and love for the boy standing in front of him as he proceeded to explain how he had been captured and had awoken not long ago in a small, abandoned hovel near the Shield Wall. As Scytale fabricated, Zerati's eyes grew steadily darker with anger. His knuckles whitened on the hilt of his crysknife.  
  
"Let's go," he said once Scytale had finished the tale. " Show me where they took you. I'll kill them, I will, and take their water!"  
  
"No!" Scytale cried out, as Zerati took hold of her arm. "Don't make me go back there!"  
  
The expression in Zerati's eyes wavered between anger and compassion, but soon the expression faded. "Of course not," he promised huskily. "But if I see them. if you know them. I'll kill them." 


End file.
